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Monday, May 16, 2011

Life as a spider

People HATE spiders. I’m using the word hate, here.

Spiders typically compete with the size of a penny – and it’s enough to send most people well over 100 pounds running like a screaming ninny. You probably just swatted an imaginary arthropod off your shoulder then slapped your hair thinking about it.

Where does this fear come from?

It’s true, spiders just look creepy. The abundance of legs and eyes – it’s like they know something you don’t. DEAR SPIDER, WHY DO YOU GET SO MANY EYES?! HUH HUH HUH???

Ok, yes, this is unsettling but quite fascinating, isn’t it? A tiny little creature can inject a few milliliters of toxin into your body and…well, you know. It’s kind of remarkable how nature can take care of itself. Somewhere my sisters just screamed NERD into their computer screens. Bitches.

After some light researching and relying on the most accurate source of information ever – Wikipedia – only 100 people died from spider bites in the 20th century. That’s 100 people in 100 years. Granted, that’s only reported cases…but go with me on this one. Using this logic we should be way more terrified of other people. Goodness knows we spend enough time killing each other. Soap box, please.

Spider bites are NOT that common, and they mostly happen because you pissed them off first. Spiders only react if provoked and that’s respectable. Unfortunately, I’m pretty sure reading that won’t keep you from rolling up newspapers and reaching for a flipflop to show off your swatting abilities.

But I used the word hate. We HATE spiders and I know the real reason why.

Spiders have life figured out, and we don’t.

Imagine the life of a spider. They build these elaborate webs full of symmetry and perfection. I tried to make a miniature fort out of popsicle sticks once. It didn’t go so well. Good story. Not to mention, their webs are made of one of nature’s great offerings. Kevlar, anyone? And they build it all in what? Ten minutes? Then they wait. Hang out. Rest. Relax. Until food comes to THEM. They don’t have to look for it, it just happens.

The lady spiders especially have it made, notably in the reproduction department. The male spiders have to dance around, performing all things courtship and show-off…SO THE LADY SPIDER DOESN’T EAT THEM. How’s that for life?

“You either turn me on properly or I will eat you.”

Forget the male ego. It’s survival of the fittest out there and you better dance, spider, DANCE.

Face it, you go to work, you pay taxes, you pray for the day you don’t have to date anymore. We are the schmucks in this scheme of life and spiders are having the last laugh.

That is, until you drop-kick that spider with the heel of your boot. That's where we need spiders most. Killing spiders is a modern day test of manhood. We gauge our bravery on the ability to smash these tiny creatures. We've all been there:

Scared person: "AHHHH!!!!!"

Brave person: "What is it?!?! A serial killer?! A bear?! A menopausal woman?!"

Scared person: "It's a...SPIDER!!! RIGHT THERE! OMG OMG OMG is it on me?! Is it on me?!"

(Please note that last bit of dialogue occurs with frantic arm-waving and hair teasing.)

Brave person: "Not to worry! I'll get it."

Scared person: "Ewwww... kill it! KILL IT!"

That's right, kill that unsuspecting penny-sized spider who traveled an astronomical distance to make it in your bathtub. Or ceiling corner. Or lamp shade.

SPLAT. Happy swatting, reader(s), and have your revenge on those spider jerks.